Lights Out
by hakunamatatahum
Summary: Post 9x24. Now a multi-chapter fic (Read the warnings at the start of Chapter 2)
1. Chapter 1

Post 9x24 from a third-party's POV

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own Grey's Anatomy

* * *

**ONE-SHOT**

She stares at the framed black and white photo of her and her bestfriend hanging on her living room.

She blinks, unconsciously circling the mouth of her wine glass with her fingers. The framed picture itself was a gift from _her_. Taken about seven years ago, it has served as a constant reminder of her previous life; of a time in her life when things were a little less complicated than they are now. Or not. Whatever.

She downs her glass of wine, trying to give herself a minute to collect her thoughts.

She blinks.

She sighs. She refills her glass and continues drinking. A silent calm _should _spread through her body because she's by herself and because, yeah, alcohol normally does it for her. For a second, it works. She manages to avoid the trepidation warring her mind since she got that phone call.

It works.

Until she hears _her _voice again. Her bestfriend's broken sobs echoes in her head once again and all she wants to do is fly to Seattle and push that perky _woman_ in front of moving traffic. Only, she thinks it might not be enough. She's worried she may go out there and still wrap her hands around her hypocritical _fucking_ neck. With shaking hands, she brusquely grabs the bottle of wine and unceremoniously drinks directly from it.

The thing is— she's a little bitter. Okay, scratch that. She _is _bitter. And if she's being completely honest, she has been for a while now.

Sure, her reputation precedes her. She is a world-renowned scholar in failed relationships. And yeah, she may be a little shallow and fickle, but for the past couple of years now, she managed to get her shit together. She's in a much better place in her life. She may be single, but she's happy and content. Looking back, she knows in her heart that moving here was right, not just for her, but more so _for her._

She lets out a deep breath, her mind once again on her bestfriend. Just the thought of her makes the gynecologist smile. It's familiar and beautiful, thinking of her that is. It's beautiful and it hurts painfully so. She thinks back to that day she confronted the orthopedic doctor about Erica Hahn; baiting her with her nonchalant, 'Are you speaking in the vagina monologues now' and 'I'm all for it! I think it's fantastic' lines. She remembers that night at Joe's, when she discretely questioned Hahn about her bestfriend. She recalls how she felt a tiny bit of hatred for the cardiologist when she admitted her _feelings. _Oh how she secretly despised Hahn that time. But deep down she knew that _that _anger wasn't completely directed to the older woman. She was angry at herself for not having that same courage. It was an uncharted territory for Hahn but she faced her fears and went for _her. _She hated herself more for it because come to think of it, she actually pushed the two together, didn't she?

And since she's being relatively frank here, she will admit now that she was jealous. And bitter.

So when she learned about how the 'W_icked Witch' _(she knows there's a reason why she had always liked Cristina Yang) disappeared without a trace, she remembers how she did an internal happy dance before chastising herself for being such a bad _friend_. She shouldn't have felt so relieved, should she? But she was, and she berated herself for it. It was in that moment that she recognized that she was indeed in trouble. For so long, she never acknowledged those feelings. _If you don't talk about it, it's not real, _she thought to herself. Besides, she wasn't even sure about her feelings for her bestfriend then. She never made sound judgement about love before, so she thought that surely she had just mistaken her _'bestfriend-ly feelings_' to something else because she was lonely that time. Their friendship had been legendary. They clicked (and it wasn't just because they were both men crazy and neither was it because of their million-dollar trust funds). It was the only relationship that she had been too careful not to mess up. It was the one relationship that she worked hard to keep. Besides, who would believe _her_? Certainly no one. Definitely not _her. _It would be a complete train wreck waiting to happen and the whole hospital will have front row seats to watch it all unfold.

And that's something that she will not subject her bestfriend to. No, not after everything she went through with.

So yes, she thought it was only logical that she kept those feelings to herself because she didn't want to be _that _woman who fucks up everything she's ever worked for because she doesn't know how to keep her mouth shut. She kept a safe distance from her and Los Angeles proved to be a brilliant distraction. For a while, she didn't have to deal with the confusing feelings and all she had to do was be her awesome self. She had a couple of wonderful, loving relationships - a far cry from all the messy ones she has been so accustomed to. Yet _the _feelings were _somewhat_ still there, no matter how hard she tried to suppress them.

It dawned on her that she never really had gotten over it when she chose not to go to her bestfriend's wedding.

She lets out a dry chuckle at the words. _Bestfriend's wedding_.

_My _Bestfriend's Wedding_._

What a fucking cliche.

She didn't go. She wanted to be happy for her bestfriend. God knows her bestfriend deserved it. And she tried really hard to. But she couldn't find it in her to be ecstatic. She couldn't be all Julia Roberts-like and sit through the wedding with resigned acceptance and silent _what if's_. No, it wasn't Arizona. It was never about her. She had met the perky PEDs surgeon a few times and she liked her. She was nice and yeah, kind. But they never really clicked. For obvious reasons now. She knew then that Arizona _knew. _It was a thought that became a fact when Arizona playfully, albeit firmly, confronted her. The PEDs surgeon told her she can't compete with their history and special connection. She knew that Arizona had watched them closely whenever she was with her bestfriend during her visits to Seattle. Of course, she did what she did best. She laughed it off with an eye roll and a witty comment about her loving the joystick. If Arizona didn't believe her, she'll never know. The woman herself is a master of disguise.

But still, it killed her when Callie didn't call to vent her anger and frustration when she was MIA during the wedding.

She waited for the call and when it never came, she cried herself to sleep that night.

* * *

It's been an hour since the phone call.

She counts the seconds, and the minutes and she realizes that the time that passes doesn't take away the buzzing in her brain and that ache that tremors her body because it's Callie.

It's Callie.

It's Callie and no matter what she does, she can't forget that damn voice.

Whimpering, she staggers to her bathroom, wanting - no, _needing_ - to feel something other than pain. Still fully clothed, she turns the shower knob and allows the cold water to permeate her trembling core.

She's mad. And she's so elated, and she's not sure if she should climb her rooftop with happiness or cry herself to sleep.

She doesn't love her. Not anymore.

Right?

No. Because if she's being honest with herself, she knows that she will always love her. She will always be in love with her Callie. She doesn't want to love her anymore. She doesn't want to feel _this_ again. And it kills her. She doesn't know if she can handle the emotional turmoil _again_. She has fought with these feelings for so long and she succeeded. She won. Maybe.

But she's finally okay and she's right where she should be, and she can't fight another battle but...

It's her.

It's Callie.

"Fuck." She punches the shower wall lightly, willing the feelings to go away. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!"

* * *

It's just not fair.

She, Addison freaking Montgomery, worked so hard to get to where she is now. She worked hard to get over that part of her life. She did so well.

She moved on from the pain and the hurt. It's unfair that she already lost once and that she succeeded once and she stopped loving_ her_ - and now this?

She hates herself because everything she has ever worked for just crumbled with that one broken whimper of her name. She wants to hate Callie. How dare she shake everything? How dare she call her after after all this time with that broken voice? How dare she make her question everything she has made herself believe all these years?

"Fuck you Callie." She shakes as she plants her face on her pillow.

She hasn't gotten enough time to vent out her frustrations when her phone rings again. She tenses, not sure if she should answer it again. Her throat feels clammy, her hands trembling. But it's her. It's her and when it comes to Callie, Addison will forever be that moon-eyed, adoring _friend._

"Hey sweetie!" She mumbles with fake cheerfulness. "Yeah. Of course, I'll be there. Uh-uh. I've already booked my flight. Hmm. Yeah, I should be there before lunch. You're fine. You'll be fine, honey. I promise." She stops to listen to Callie trying to talk without breaking down again. "Just hang on, sweetheart. I'll be there. I'll see you real soon. I - I love you, Callie. Take care."

An ex-addict who's been sober for years about to slip back to her old ways.

That's exactly how she sees herself right now.


	2. Author's Note

Hi!

So I've been receiving messages asking for this story to be continued. To be honest, this has been planned that way - multichapters. But I figured that if I had to continue, things are going to be a bit darker for both Calzona / Callie & Addison and I'm not quite sure if I can do it justice. I'll see if I can make another story sketch for Lights Out and if it's feasible, I'll continue the story.

All the best and thank you for all your kind words and constructive help!


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

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**Disclaimer**: I don't own Grey's Anatomy and any of its characters.

**Author's Note:**

**Please read the warnings before you decide to read the story:**

So I decided to continue this story - with a few warnings though. First, this is unlike my other stories that are light and have very little angst. Secondly, there will be dark themes of drug use/abuse and other issues that I have yet to officially decide if I should include like PTSD (I fear that I will not be able to do it justice because I know very little about it). Next, I have no idea if Calzona or Caddison are endgame (well, I have, and it's leaning more towards Calzona but that may change as we progress. Or not.) and finally, the updates for this story will be few and a bit far in between. 'The Keeper' and 'There's Something About Callie' are my priority when it comes to updates.

Also, for the purpose of this story, there is no Sofia. Callie lost her during the car wreck.

With that being said, I hope we could enjoy this ride together, even if it's fiction :)

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**/**

She's stupid.

So, so stupid, but that doesn't stop her from pouring a line out onto the desk. She sniffs the last of her tears away and try to focus on her hands, refining the edges of the powder with a small piece of paper. They're shaking. Her hands are shaking and she can't ignore that, but she still tries anyway. She usually doesn't do this in here - hell, she hasn't done this for a while, but right now, she couldn't care less. She's alone anyway. But right now, everything hurts and she just wants it to stop. She's so tired. So tired of putting up a strong facade. The drugs can take her there, easily. To her escape, that is.

It burns violently on the insides of her nose after she bends down and sniffs the line. She shuts her eyes tightly, waiting out the flash of pain and anticipating the part where it starts to feel good. Her hand comes up to wipe her nose and she waits.

She waits until the room starts to shift unrealistically and she knows that it's kicking in. She knows the risks but she has always been a risk taker so the hell with it. She knows she's stupid - that's the only word she can think of right now to describe herself. Stupid and a worthless piece of shit.

Everything stays dizzy for the next few minutes as she paces around the room _— _or stumble, actually. She keeps rubbing her temple, rubbing her eyes. Yet the good part doesn't seem to come. It's never taken this long to get started before. She just wants to feel lighter, less attached to the earth, less attached to herself for a while before she has to face the world.

/

She wakes up to the blaring sound of her alarm.

Her throat feels dry and swollen. Her eyes too. And her chest. Her entire body is numb, and it kinda terrifies her because she has always been able to control it with complete grace and ease. Always.

There's no more serenity. No, there's none of that anymore. Her thoughts are a train wreck. She has never been this lost before - this completely out of place, like something about her existence has been altered, messed with, broken.

She laughs dryly at her own thoughts.

She has been messed with alright.

All her life.

It keeps crossing her mind. She shuts her eyes again but while that may block out the images, it only strengthens the physical memory. It's all temporary. It's worse now because she can feel it again. It's worse now because the memories that she ache to forget the most are the ones she can never rub off. She feels so stuck with them. The pain in her eyes makes her realize that this is not a nightmare of the worst kind. She not close to figuring out what she thinks about all of _these_. Much more how she feels now. Well no, scratch that. She knows what she feels but she doesn't know what those feelings are trying to tell her. She's so confused and hurt and bitter. She can lie in this bed and feel and feel but all of that feeling has blurred the idea of everything she _thought_ she knew. The things she used to strongly believe in. Things like love, loyalty and forever.

Another dry chuckle makes its way out of her mouth and it takes her a few seconds to register how different her laughter sounds. Have you ever done that? Laugh then stop because that damn laugh didn't sound like you?

Running her hand across her face, she breathes out a heavy sigh, waiting for her body to catch up with her mind. As soon as she feels ready to get up, she's startled by the vibration of her phone. She pulls the device from underneath her pillow and freezes momentarily when she recognizes the name on the screen.

_'Flight leaves in 3 hrs. Pick me up by 11?'_

Her thumb reaches over and brushes the screen softly, as she pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, hesitating to respond for a split second. The anger returns, boiling somewhere at the pit of her stomach, but not _at _her friend. She's angry because she knows she's worrying about her and that is not something that you want.

Well, at least when she's sober.

She slaps her free palm on her forehead, berating herself for yet another act of stupidity. She doesn't want to put Addison through the stress she always seem to cause others. Her friend has endured too much of that already and putting her through this... whatever the fuck this is... is cruel. But the damage has been done. She drunk dialed her a couple of nights ago when _it_ all happened. And now, she'll be in Seattle in a few hours, probably to babysit her. Sighing, she types out a reply before quickly pulling out the energy back in her body and standing up from the hotel bed. As she stands, her reflection from the vanity mirror catches her eyes. It takes her a moment to collect herself and acknowledge that she's looking right into her own eyes.

_Ugly._

Damn she looks ugly. No wonder her - no. Shut up.

Shut the fuck up.

Without another word, she starts cleaning up her things, including the items that spilled out on the floor and the _bag_ on the desk. She feels dirty, like a layer of dust covers her body. Doing it never made her feel good about herself. It simply made her feel better about her situation, enough so that she's not constantly shamed of the image of herself. It's a temporary fix and an ineffective one at that. She knows that from past years of experience.

After cleaning up and flashing the contents of the bag in the toilet, she now needs to remove the dirt coating her skin.

A shower will help. It always does. Something about spending about half an hour or so scrubbing her body makes her feel cleaner, like maybe she's not that tainted and broken after all.

* * *

One minute she's puking her guts out in her hotel bathroom and the next thing she knows, she's walking the hallways of Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital. She doesn't exactly know why she's here. She asked for an indefinite leave of absence and it has been granted, so she doesn't have any reason to be here. In fact, she has all the reasons to despise this damn place - this hospital that has been a personal witness to all those heartaches. As she makes her way to that all-too familiar room, she can hear and feel the whispers and looks of pity from every person she passes by.

She doesn't care though. She's way past the point of giving a damn.

She stops in front of a door, takes a deep breath before knocking. She waits for the voice that will allow her to open the door and as soon as she does, she wastes no time in opening it.

"Hunt." She nods curtly, not bothering to engage in the usual pleasantries. The acting Chief returns her greeting with a tight-lipped smile, nodding towards the seat in front of him. She takes the offered chair, not wanting to prolong her stay.

"So." Owen starts, unsure how to go about the 'talk'.

"I've thought about what you've told me."

"About?"

"PTSD."

"Oh." Owen narrows his eyes at the woman in front of him. "What about it?"

"I think..." She looks down, fiddling with her hands. "I think you're right, Owen. I think you're right and I think I need your help." She finally stares into his eyes, her gaze pleading him to understand what she is sure she can't fully comprehend herself.

"Okay." He nods again, the guilt from _that _incident once again rushing back. "What do you need me to do?"

"I don't know. I just figured that since you've been there...y-you could...you know? Help? I just... I didn't even see it, Owen."

He sighs. "PTSD is a demon in itself. The symptoms can arise suddenly, gradually, or it may even come and go over time. It's tricky. We can't beat ourselves up for not seeing it right away."

"Will you help? Can you do it for me, Owen?"

"Of course. Have you two talked about it? I can recommend a therapist and arrange everything. Dr. Wyatt can -"

"Owen." He's cut off before he can finish his thought. "We're not talking. Not since that night."

"But -."

"I'm not ready."

"The most potent weapon against PTSD, or any disease, is the love and support of family."

"Well I don't love her now, Owen." She snaps. "I'm sorry. I will only make it worse."

"You don't mean that -."

"She needs to be with someone who she _thinks_ understands her. She's convinced I'm not that person, Owen. So no."

"I can't tell her to seek help, Callie. It has to come from her."

"I know. But will you be there for her when she decides she wants help?"

"Why can't you?"

"I just can't, Owen." She whispers stoically.

"Let me give you the bigger picture of the treatment, Torres. First, there's the trauma-focused cognitive-behavioral therapy for her. There can be EMDR and medication if the therapist deem it to be necessary. There's also a family therapy since it affects not only her but those closest to her. She can't possibly do it on her own, Callie."

"I know. And I'll make sure she won't be alone, okay? I'm still processing things, Owen. But I came here because even if I don't want to be near her, I need to at least do something."

"I know it's hard for you too."

"I guess...my pain is nothing compared to hers." She smiles sadly and for a moment, there's silence - Owen not knowing what to say next. The only thing that breaks the tense air is the sound of Callie's phone. Without looking at it, Callie stands up and offers Owen an expectant look. "That's my cue."

"I'll help." He says sincerely. "My experience's different from hers, but I'll help."

"Thank you."

* * *

Callie rushes out of the hospital, eyes fixed on her phone. She smiles as she learns that Addison is about to board her plane and she'll be here in a little over two hours. She reaches the parking lot without bumping into anybody she personally knows, and for that, she's grateful.

"Calliope..." She didn't have to turn around to know who it is. "Cal -."

"Don't. Please don't call me that. Don't do this. I can't do this with you right now." She grits, walking towards the driver's seat. She can feel the footsteps nearing her and she all but runs.

"Please don't run."

"Oh screw you." She snaps, finally reaching her car.

"I'm so sorry..."

"Aren't we all?" Callie chuckles bitterly.

"Stop. Please s-stop."

"I can't do this anymore, Arizona." She responds, sucking in a breath once it leaves her lips as she finally turns around to look at Arizona. The shorter woman retracts, lips parted and eyes wide as her hands come up to cover her face. Callie can hear her breath push in and out of her body. Everything remains silent while they both try to regain their composure.

"Calliope," Arizona says softly, eyes red and face pink. She wipes the fresh tears and looks to the ground, trying to find her bearing. She feels the sudden pain, like her chest is being split brutally except that it hurts like nothing she has ever felt before. Much worse than that night. Or those days and nights in the woods. "What did you say?" She asks, voice cracking midway.

Callie shuts her eyes tightly to fight the onslaught of tears, "I'm…" something swallows her voice and she takes a tentative step forward, suddenly forgetting that she's angry. She blows out a breath and tries again, "I know that it's hard for you. I can't…imagine how hard it was, still is, for you. But..."

"But what?" Arizona mumbles, fear lacing her tone. She watches as Callie shakes her head, eyes filled with unshed tears. Callie looks up and focuses on breathing, alternating between clenching her fists and then relaxing her hands. Arizona has never seen her like this before. "Callie?" She asks again.

"It's been hard for me too," She breathes out, meeting Arizona's eyes for the first time since that night. "And you were right. I wasn't there. I didn't know. But sometimes, not being there is worse than actually being there. Not knowing drives one crazy. I didn't do anything but think about what happened to you. It drove me mad. The scenarios that played in my mind during those nights were horrible." Callie takes a deep breath. "I kept trying to tell myself to be bigger than that because _you _were the one that got hurt. _You _need me to be here for you but I can't _just _do that. I thought I could just be what you wanted me to be, Arizona, but I can't. I can't just sit around and do nothing anymore because it hurt me too. So I pushed. Not because I didn't care. I pushed because I thought it was what you needed that time; what we both needed at that time. I thought restoring that sense of normalcy would be the right thing to do. Obviously, I was wrong. Again. I'm always wrong." Arizona's heart speeds so fast, her blood pumping.

"Call -."

"You were the love of my life," Callie continues, pausing to sob, "not anything less, Arizona. Never been anything else. But right now? Right now I can't look at you anymore and see a future. All I see is me _losing _you."

"You promised me." Arizona sniffs, breaking out into a quiet sob.

"I did what I had to do Arizona and I know that you hate me but I'm not going to apologize for choosing you over your leg. You're just going to have to continue to hate me."

"I trusted you..."

"And I apologize for breaking your trust." Callie's voice starts to wear out. She can feel her body go numb and she knows she has to leave.

"That's easy for you to say! You didn't lose a damn leg! You didn't -."

"I used to walk tall around here. I used to walk tall. Then came George. He took off at least an inch. And Erica went and left me. That shaved off a few more. I got shorter. All that humiliation makes you shorter. You? You cut me off at the knees. It's bad enough that you humiliated me by jumping in bed with another woman you've met for five seconds, no, you have to humiliate me further and do it at _my _workplace too. Again. This freaking hospital isn't just my workplace, it's my home too. Now I can't even look at it. I can't even come in and not wish that a hole will just swallow me already."

"I'm so sorry -."

"Are we even yet?"

"What?" Callie didn't answer, but Arizona finds the answer in her eyes anyway. Without another word, Callie breaks the eye contact, rushing to get inside her car. "At least tell me where you're staying?"

Callie doesn't look back.

* * *

She hates herself right now. She punches the steering wheel as she tries to calm down. She feels sick. She was fine earlier. But now, she feels like shit.

First, she had to ask someone else to do something she knows she should be doing and it makes her sick. Then came the exchange that she wasn't ready for. It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. She feels so uncomfortable and she curses Arizona because now the sensation has come back. She tries to rummage through the happy memories stored at the back of her head but right now, it's not working. All she can see is Arizona and Lauren. All she could hear is Arizona's _'stick out your leg and I will grab a bone saw and let's even the freakin' score!'_

That memory opens up the door containing the other ones she tried so hard to forget.

"No. Please no."

_George and Izzy._

_The fight with Erica._

_Arizona._

_The shooter._

_Airport._

_The car wreck._

_Losing her baby._

_The physical pain._

_Heroin to stop the pain._

_Plane crash._

_Pot. Valium._

_Watching Mark die._

_Another hit. Then another. And another._

_Another fight._

_Hit._

_Fight._

_Hit. Another hit._

_/_

Reaching the hotel's carpark, she checks on the time.

_Addison will be here in two hours._

She thinks about driving to the airport and just wait for her friend there. But right now, she feel so sick, she's trembling.

Opening her suite, she rushes to her bed before lying down on the floor. She lets her arm move underneath the bed, hoping that nothing's there. Another swipe and her hand comes in contact with a paper bag. She closes her eyes, but her hands wouldn't stop trembling so she grabs the bag before moving to the bathroom.

She just needs one hit. One small one and she'll feel better.

Holding on to the edges of the sink, she leans down and starts sniffing.

She waits for the effect and it comes sooner rather than later and she couldn't be more grateful. She feels lighter and a little less burdened of her past. Her present. And yeah, the fucking future. She laughs. Flashing the contents of the bag again, she looks at herself at the mirror and nods approvingly.

A shower and a change of clothes later, she's on her way to the airport.

/

Addison looks more of a mess than she is, of that Callie's sure.

"Callie!" Addison hugs her friend tight, trying to convey her support through the embrace. "How are you holding up, sweetie?" She grabs Callie's face, like a mother checking on her child who went away to another coast for college.

"Better, now that you're here. I missed you, Addie."

"I missed you too. Where are you staying?"

"Paragon Suites."

"Whoa."

"What? At least I can be classy while being miserable, right?"

Addison rolls her eyes at the other woman. "When you put it that way..." She trails on as Callie leads her to the Orthopedic surgeon's car. The look in Callie's eyes makes Addison feel really worried. She's acting upbeat, telling her a funny story about this old man across her suite; but Addison can't ignore the fact that Callie looks a little pale and her eyes were so weird.

"You want to hit up a club tonight?"

Addison raises a questioning brow at the suggestion. "Maybe not tonight. Tomorrow? You and I need to talk."

"But I don't want to talk tonight." Callie whines, pouting even and despite the odd atmosphere, Addison can't help but chuckle at how adorable Callie Torres can be.

"We don't have to talk about anything that makes you feel uncomfortable. We can just catch up."

"And we can do that at a bar! I really want to dance."

"How about we just watch a movie, then have dinner? Then tomorrow we can go clubbing?" Addison suggests. Her gut is telling her that going out and getting drunk tonight is not a good idea.

"You're no fun anymore!" Callie sticks out her tongue and Addison knew that the younger doctor has agreed. Silence envelops them, with Callie focused on the road.

"Are you okay, Callie?" Addison breaks the silence. She opts to talk rather than overanalyze things. "I mean, really, how are you?"

She waits for Callie to respond, allowing her to take her time to collect herself. With a sigh, she relents. "I've ran out of tears, Adds. Sometimes I feel really angry and sad. Then guilty, then numb. It's a freaking rollercoaster and I feel so tired. I just want to press a button to stop everything. I don't want to feel anything anymore."

"Callie -."

"She blames me, Addison." Callie laughs bitterly. "You hear me?"

"Have you two talked?"

"Not really." Callie shrugs. "We just scream at each other and go in circles. It goes back to the leg. And how I broke my promise." Addison nods, a huge part of her relieved that Callie seems really coherent and well, opening up. Maybe she just read her wrong earlier. She's just going through a really rough time and is just putting up a happy facade for her.

"Everything's going to be okay, Callie."

"Yeah?"

"I promise." Callie snorts, before guffawing in laughter. "What the hell, Callie?"

"I'm sorry. It's just that, you said _I promise. _Those freaking two words just wouldn't leave me alone. I've said that a lot of times. And look where it got me. Arizona too. It's just funny."

"Oh. Kay..."

"I'm really glad you're here, Adds. You have no idea how happy I am." Addison smiles sadly at her friend.

"I'll do anything to make you happy, Callie." She says sincerely.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Just don't sing. You're a terrible singer, Addison."

* * *

**Cutting it off here. Next chapter will be from Arizona's POV. Message me if you have any questions (I know there will be some) and I'll try to answer them as best as I could.**

**All mistakes are mine. **


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own Grey's Anatomy

* * *

She wakes up into the darkness, eyes opening smoothly without the usual shattering pain that often greets her in the mornings since she started sleeping in this bed alone. She lies temporarily, adjusting to the world at her own pace as she stares up at the ceiling. She wishes it will come alive, maybe introduce her to a whole other universe because she knows that this one she's in right now is falling apart.

Eventually, she sits up, rubbing her eyes as a yawn escapes into the air. She leans over to her bedside table and reaches for her phone, unlocking it to check for any messages.

Nothing.

She sighs in defeat, mulling over the over twenty texts and voicemails she had sent last night alone that were left unanswered. She slowly makes her way to the bathroom and laboriously heads under the shower.

The twist in her stomach comes back when she remembers last night. She wasn't supposed to hear it. But she did and now there's no way she can unhear those words.

Addison is here.

In Seattle.

Addison freaking Montgomery is actually here - with Calliope.

Arizona is here, without any idea as to where her wife is while the woman she secretly dislikes is out there, somewhere, spending time with Calliope. Her Calliope.

She holds on to the handrails that Callie had installed almost a year ago, wincing in pain when she feels the rail dig deep into her palm as she continues to grab on to it tightly; the nurses' conversation echoing in her head.

_"I heard Shepherd say that Addison's planning a backpacking expedition with Torres. Ugh. Thank goodness for Dr. Montgomery. God knows Torres needs it."_

_"I know right? They're actually the coolest besties in this joint. Ever. Dr. Montgomery never should have left. They're so cute together."_

_"Besties my ass. Girl, there were rumors they were more than bestfriends. I mean, I should know. I was there. They were pretty close."_

_"They're cute together."_

_"Preach. They're both rich kids, badass surgeons and pretty cool. I wouldn't be opposed to them getting together. That'll be awesome to see."_

_"Did you know that they were supposed to buy a house together? After the whole George fiasco? But then Dr. Montgomery had to move to LA and Dr. Torres met the wicked witch."_

_"Oh my God! Really?"_

_"Totally."_

_"Maybe now they can?"_

"Dammit!" Arizona slaps the shower wall, willing the memory to fade away.

No, she can't be here. Addison gave her her word that she's not coming back. So no. It must be a mistake. Maybe she heard it wrong? She finishes showering, murmuring to herself the same thing for the past five minutes.

_Addison can't be here._

Unfortunately, repeating the statement becomes ineffective rather quickly. Wrapping her hand around the doorknob, she watches as her fingers tremble lightly, each muscle possessing its own fear.

She can't lose Callie.

It's been two weeks since her wife walked out of their apartment; taking all her things with her to God knows where. She couldn't find Callie. Not for the lack of trying because she spent all of her free time looking for her. She went to all the hotels within the area - begging the hotels' staff to give her any information about her estranged wife. She went as low as begging her colleagues to give her _anything_ with regards to Callie. All she received was either a sneer or a look of pity and she's starting to feel bad for herself.

But she can't lose Callie.

_But Addison is here. _

She tells her brain to shut up, twisting the bathroom knob open, hoping against hope that things will just go back to the way they were before the stupid crash. She closes her eyes, willing herself to hope that maybe, just maybe, Calliope will be there as she steps further. As she does, the sliver of hope she has is destroyed because all she finds is an empty master's bedroom. She swallows hardly and takes a deep breath.

How could she expect her wife to be here? She can't. She shouldn't even try to have any expectations. So far, those haven't been working out for her.

/

* * *

"I found a therapist." She starts, holding her breath as she waits for a reaction from her colleague. "His name's Martin Hope."

"That's really great, Arizona." Owen offers a kind smile, swiftly closing the folder he's been holding on to so he could focus his attention to the woman he's been desperately wanting to reach out to. "He's really a great trauma counselor. I know some people who worked with him."

"I'm not too late, am I, Owen?" Arizona wrings her hands nervously. "God..." She runs her hand on her hair, trying to ease the tension she's feeling. "I've waited until now... until we're too broken to seek help. H-How could I not see it sooner?"

"You can't force it, Arizona."

"I'm so scared, Owen." She admits, looking at Owen nervously. "What if it doesn't work? What if the damage I've done's irreparable? I m-mean... I mean l-look at you! You've gotten help and look at you and Cristina..." She blurts out, eyes widening as soon as she realizes what she has said. "I'm sorry. I, I didn't mean that —"

"I understand, Arizona. It's okay." He nods in understanding. "But just for the record, Cristina and I aren't broken up because of the PTSD and cheating. Ours is different."

"I know. Owen, I'm really sorry. I —."

"It's not going to work if you're seeking help just because you don't want to lose Callie."

"I'm sorry, what?" Arizona gapes at him. "I want to do this because I want to fix my marriage, Owen. I don't want to lose Callie."

With a deep sigh, Owen leans into his chair so he's looking more intently at Arizona. "You do it for yourself, Arizona. Not for anyone else. You go to therapy and counseling not because it will make Callie or your parents or your friends feel better but because it will make _you _feel better. It's not going to be easy. That's why if you're doing it for others, I'm telling you now, it won't work. I took that route, Arizona. And sure, I came out of the counseling better and stronger but since my motivation was not _me, _my progress was delayed."

"B-But you and Cristina are getting divorced. I — I c-can't take that, Owen." She breathes out insecurely.

"I may be wrong with what I'm about to say here, Arizona. And I'm apologizing in advance if I'm going to ruffle your feathers with what I'm about to say." He winces, trying to find the right words in his mind. "I just don't think you two have had a healthy foundation to begin with."

"I'm sorry —."

"Maybe this is it? You two have hit rock bottom in your marriage and so, rock bottom could become the solid foundation on which you two could rebuild your lives together?" He looks up, his words slowly dawning upon him. "You know what? Let's leave the advises to Dr. Hope, shall we?" He smiles sheepishly.

"I'd like that, Chief."

* * *

After her 'talk' with Owen, Arizona decided to use the rest of her day off running personal errands. She went to her dentist's appointment, bought new rugs and did the much delayed grocery shopping.

She drove around the city, opting to do the grocery shopping at some store that she never frequents. She needs to be somewhere where people won't look at her and silently wonder why she's doing the shopping sans her wife. Shopping has always been one of the things that they've enjoyed doing together.

Until she lost her freaking leg.

Arizona sighs. She pulls a cart and heads for her section of choice and starts to pile up her cart with items from her list. As she rounds up the corner of the candy section, she freezes when the familiar stance of a stranger catches her attention. Arizona blinks, but the woman remains glued on her spot, gazing at the numerous stack of sweets, with her dark sunglasses on. One more blink and she's sure that the woman is no stranger. She thinks the thump inside her is the sound of her heart dropping into her stomach. There's doubt, so much of it, but there's also complete certainty, the two contradictions speeding towards each other and exploding in the middle of your mind.

She's really here.

Arizona looks on with wide eyes, the same question repeating over and over in her head. The situation isn't the type to hand itself over to her easily, no matter how many times things like these happen, she has to struggle first. Arizona is in _her_ presence again in a while and that isn't going to settle in so smoothly just yet. The hardest part is that she knows that she can decipher exactly how she feels the moment the other woman looks at her.

Only, that moment won't seem to come as Calliope remains oblivious to her surrounding. Still, Arizona waits. She waits. She waits between breaths; with the company of silence, counting the seconds as they pass her by. She waits for Callie to notice her, but as more seconds pass by, Arizona realizes it'll will not come. With feigned confidence, she strolls towards the oblivious woman, clearing her throat as she sidles next to her.

"Hi." She greets cheerfully, eyes darting from Callie to the products in front of them. Callie does not respond, just continues to face ahead. For a split second, Arizona is tempted to check on the woman beside her — to see if it's _really _Callie. Her Calliope. Yet she stops herself. Calliope is recognizable anywhere and in any state she's in. Arizona could pinpoint her from a hundred feet away in the pouring rain. She could find her even when lost in the craziest of worlds she has experienced. Arizona can do that because Callie has always been the same. She's a constant, her constant, and she's always the same despite all the things she has done — good and bad.

This woman beside her? She doesn't recognize her and no matter how much she tries to hide it, the situation scares her"

"Hi." She tries again, touching the other woman's shoulder for more effect.

It works.

Callie looks at her, but due to the dark glasses, she could not decipher what she's feeling at the sight of her. She's about to ask if Callie's okay, but she's cut off by the sound of Callie's cheerful voice.

"Hey!" Callie smiles _that _smile and Arizona can't help but be taken aback. It's been _ages _since she has heard that chirpy voice and seen _that _beautiful smile and she instantly feels her stomach act funny at the sight. "How's everything going?!"_  
_

"Uh." Arizona looks at Callie in surprise, not knowing how to respond to her quips. "Better. Things are looking up. Calliope, can we talk?"

"Sure thing." Callie replies monotonously, her attention now back at the stack in front of her.

"Can we go somewhere? Like at the coffee shop across the street?" Arizona asks, but instead of getting a reply, she instead watches Callie pick up boxes of Dots and unceremoniously throwing it on her basket. "Callie?" She tries again, but is only met by a silent Calliope moving on to the boxes of chocolates. "Here then." She sighs. "Look, Calliope... I understand your... feelings. And I can't say sorry enough. But I love you, Calliope. I love you and I'm not letting go." She smiles when she sees Callie stop, seemingly absorbing her words. "I know I messed up. I'm seeking professional help, Calliope. I've already booked an appointment with a trauma counselor and I feel really good about it. I'm trying to be better."

"Better is good." Callie nods, still not looking at Arizona.

"So...you think we could work on it? On us?" Once again, Callie remains mum — only this time, she starts walking away too. "Calliope! Please don't walk away from me again —."

"Sorry, dear, I gotta go."

"But —" Arizona watches as Callie runs towards the cashier, swiftly placing all her items on the counter before scurrying towards the door, but not before throwing Arizona a thumbs up.

_Well at least she talked to me, right? Better weird than nothing._

With a sigh, Arizona walks towards the same counter Callie has been to a few seconds earlier.

* * *

**Meanwhile, outside the store**

Callie walks out of the store, confused at the events that transpired inside. She shakes her head, willing the aching in her head to stop as she climbs her new car. As soon as she starts the car, she's startled by the sudden sound of a raspy voice.

"What the hell, Torres? What took you so long?"

"Shut up." She maneuvers the car out of the parking lot, one clear destination in mind.

"I thought you were buying water? Huh?" Callie's companion sighs in annoyance. "Who was that woman you were talking to?"

"Huh?"

"The blonde woman?"

"I don't know." She answers honestly. She tries to think again, but she comes up empty.

"Oh man!" Callie's companion laughs hysterically. "Too stoned to know?"

"Will you shut up? Just tell me how much each."

"180."

"How did you score that much blow for less than two hundred?" She asks again.

"I've got lots of connections, gorgeous."

"Whatever."

"You owe me 900 bucks Torres."

"Here." She throws her purse. "Grab a grand." With a smirk, her companion does as told, making sure to grab in a couple hundred bucks extra. _There's no freaking way this doped woman will know._

"Thanks. And you're welcome, by the way."

"Just don't freaking tell Addison, okay? She's going to be so mad."

"Are you kidding me? She's going to skin me alive when she learns about this cute little deal we have. Where is she anyway? You know? Or are you still too stoned to know?"

"She went back to LA for an emergency consult. She should be back soon."

"Perfect. To your suite?"

"Sure thing."

/

* * *

**I apologize for the delay. No reason, I just haven't been in the mood to write. Things have been swirling in my head but I couldn't find it in me to sit down and type.**

**This chapter is just a filler to push the storyline forward. We're going to see Arizona in therapy and Addison realizing Callie's 'affair' with drugs next. **

**I'm working on There's Something About Callie but the next chapter will be available in a couple of days. Again, apologies for the delay. **

**All mistakes are mine.**


End file.
